


Claire Temple, Two and a Half Hours Later

by MissIzzy



Series: Walking Behind With a Bucket [3]
Category: Iron Fist (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/MissIzzy
Summary: Tending to the injured.





	Claire Temple, Two and a Half Hours Later

She’s set up her makeshift clinic in her building’s small lobby, where the entrance has been busted open, but none of the rioters stayed in. Her fellow tenants helped supplement her medical supplies, and Colleen Wing showed up with more. One look at her tear-stained face, and Claire didn’t had to ask her whether or not Danny Rand was still alive. She confirmed from her that Misty still was. She doesn’t yet know about anyone else.

Though the fact that she’s heard nothing about Luke from those that have staggered in from the streets says too much. She’s forcing herself not to think about that right now.

At least most of the injuries aren’t life-threatening, at least not once they’re bandaged. Though there are two people she really wants to get the hospital. Etienne’s not going to keel over tonight, but everyone’s watching Owen anxiously, as if they’re afraid that his death would be followed by another spree of them. By all accounts, the business that began all this was over in minutes, and it’s been over two hours since, but that hasn’t helped much.

She looks up as a young man wanders in. No blood on him, and he’s not clutching anything. When she opens her mouth, he says quickly, “I’m not hurt. Can I just…sit here for a while…I…I need…”

“To not be alone?” At his nod, Claire glanced around at the number of assistants she’s managed to gather so far, mostly from within the building. She actually doesn’t need another one, at least not until the number of patients grows significantly again. “How do you feel about standing guard? I’ve got a martial arts instructor who’ll be coming back here soon, but you can fill for her until then.” The busting of the door and most of the other riot activity may have happened before she settled in here, but there’s been a couple more invasions, and they’re lucky each was only a handful of people.

“However I can help, m’am,” he says, and goes back to stand at the entrance. One of Claire’s patients, a girl with her arm in a sling, gets to her feet and walks over to talk to him.

Outside, the noise might finally be winding down; everyone at least done with their street for the moment. A couple more patients who don’t need any more care are even looking at the doors, but no one tries to go out yet.

One of her helpers, a middle-aged woman named Shelly, came up to her and said, “I don’t know how much longer Owen can last. If your girl Colleen doesn’t get back here in half an hour, I want to try to get him to the hospital. Javel’s willing to go with me, and Maya from the second floor’s offered to let us use her cart.”

It’s definitely not the first time Claire’s found herself making the kind of call nurses like her usually didn’t face, but she feels a new weight of responsibility as she considers this one. Although she’s not sure this woman won’t try to do it even if she says no.

After a moment, she says, “Let me try to call Colleen again first. Maybe we’ll be able to make calls again by then.”

Shelly agrees, but she sounds annoyed enough Claire’s about ready to take her phone out immediately. Reception hasn’t been completely non-existent, after all.

But then five more people stumble in, all of them very much needing her help, one of them gasping out, “Ms. Temple? Ms. Claire Temple?” It’s kind of stunning, how many people in Harlem not only know her by name, which she might have expected, but also know enough about her to know what she does.

She also listens to their words as they offer their slashed limbs for bandaging, just in case they have news. But they don’t, really; they’d spent the past two hours huddled together in an apartment, finally coming out because one of them has a young son and they can’t reach him or his elementary school. The boy’s poor father looks haunted. Despite the rough injuries to his arm he’s still trying to use his phone at intervals.

“You’ll get through,” Claire tells him firmly. “Sooner or later, you’ll get through.” She’s not going to tell him anything that might not be true, much as she wants to.

“His mama died last year,” says the man. “He’s all I got.”

She has other patients to check on by the time she’s tended to the immediate problems, but Javel goes up to the distressed father. “Which school does he go to?” he asks, probably hoping it’s easy stop on the way back from the hospital, and waits patiently through the man’s lengthy answer.

He and Shelly are actually loading Owen into the cart, and considering both it and Etienne, when Colleen returns. She’s got two more people limping in her wake and a huge bag. “I saw Karen,” is how she greets Claire. “Matt’s alive. Foggy’s dead. She heard Jessica’s alive, but we’re not a hundred percent sure on that one.”

Claire allows herself a single moment of grief, like she did for Danny. That’s all the time Colleen needs to see the cart and size up that situation. “I can get both of them to the hospital center up by Columbia,” she says. “The streets here are mostly empty at this point; they’ve all moved downtown. Don’t know if it’ll stay that way, though.”

“Do it, then” says Claire, and Colleen’s already moving across the room. Gently she takes Etienne and helps her to her feet with a “Can you walk?” Claire steps forward, towards the two new arrivals.


End file.
